I never actually wish I were a genius, but some days I do wish I had more of an appreciation for them.
Not that I don’t appreciate genius.
Take James Joyce.
I could re-read his early works over and over again. Will anyone ever write a short story that’s as brilliant as The Dead?
I could even, I suppose, re-read Ulysses if I had to. (Maybe someday I’ll even want to.)
As for Finnegan’s Wake. On my bucket list, for sure. Once I get past the fact that it makes no sense and ends with the word “the”.
Then there’s music.
Of course I can distinguish between music and musack. But do I embarrass myself that I’d rather listen to show tunes – even Ethel Merman belting ‘em out in Annie Get Your Gun – than put on Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring?
And then there’s art.
I’m not someone who thinks that great art ends with Rembrandt. Honestly, I like a lot of the modern stuff. I was a sophisticated and savvy enough kid to fall in love with Miró at the age of 10, and I still have the postcards from the Chicago Art Institute to prove it. Okay, so maybe I thought Joan Miró was a girl painter. So shoot me.
But there are some things I just plain do not get.
Some of which were on sale at the Frieze Art Fair last week in NYC.
Now, Balloon Dog.
I’ll give you that it’s witty enough.
But $25K? For one of 40? Admittedly in unique colors. Still... (At least it won’t deflate like a real balloon dog would.)
And I’d much rather a Paul McCarthy “Balloon Dog” than the Paul McCarthy “Gold Butter Dog 1, Guggenheim Crown” staring at me, whatever the price. Even if it’s silicone and not really butter, which would turn rancid, and I do find that Guggenheim Crown pretty darned drôle.
As for that “You Look Good” (by Barbara Kruger) lurking in the background: at $250K, you can probably forget about it.
That is, after all, quite a bit to pay for an affirmation, when you can create one on your own using a Sharpie and a Post-it note. Which I’m going to do the minute I get off this blog.
After all, if you DIY-it, you can change them up every day, pretty much for free:
You’re a really swell person.
You ARE funny.
Not bad, for someone your age.
So easy to make fun, isn’t it.
But the truth is that I didn’t think of “You Look Nice,” which is worth $250K. All I came up with is the derivative “Not bad for someone your age,” which is worth bupkis.
Bad enough I’m a philistine, but a jealous one…. I should be hanging my head, not blogging.
I will, however, forge on, mostly because us non-genius types have to make up for our non-genius by being balloon-dogged and determined.
Which takes me to the works of Tom Friednman.
The booth of Luhring Augustine gallery was devoted to Tom Friedman, whose five food sculptures -- made with Styrofoam and paint -- looked quite appetizing. All sold within the first 90 minutes.
A large pizza pie and a slice of white bread hung on the walls; a group of sweet treats, including a Twinkie and a Snowball, sat on the floor. The tiny green pea could have been easily missed on the white wall where it resided -- were it not for the hefty price of $35,000.
“That’s classic for Tom,” said co-owner Lawrence Luhring. “There’s always something in his work that’s minuscule.” (Source: Bloomberg.)
A $35K Styrofoam pea? Why didn’t I think of that.
I guess it’s because, not only am I a jealous Philistine, I’m a pea brain as well.
Needless to say, I wanted to learn more about Tom Friedman, and came across some info on an earlier exhibit. Friedman’s genius, I assure you, does not end with the Styrofoam pea.
He made a “perfect sphere” out of 1,500 pieces of chewed bubble gum. (“it is the knowledge of his quasi medieval investment of time that gives the piece its power”).
Let me tell you, I can identify with that “quasi medieval investment of time,” but has mine given Pink Slip any power?
He also created “a sculpture made from a box of cooked spaghetti that have been attached end to end to form a single, loopy spiral, the process that friedman undertakes is both intricate and fraught with the possibility of a messy and frustrating failure.”
Messy and frustrating failure! I may not be a genius, but Tom Friedman and I have something in common. (Although my failures have probably only appeared messy and frustrating to me.)
Then there’s this:
hair
everyone knows, rather intimately, what a bar of soap is,
or at least we think we do, until friedman shows up with his
sculpture that changes the whole concept of soap into an object with a--sticky-when-wet--surface that holds spiralling pubic hairs perfectly in place. ultra-thin, circular lines expanding concentrically outwards from the center.
he must have labored over this little enigmatic thing for hours. 'initially I was drawn towards materials that had to do with personal hygiene. cleaning materials...I drew a connection between mundane rituals for keeping ourselves clean, and rituals for spiritual purification.' friedman said. (Source for this, plus chewing gum and spaghetti: Designboom.)
I’ve finally found it, that chasm that separates genius from pedestrian intellect, that je ne sais quoi which je ne have pas.
Sure, I’ve labored over this little enigmatic thing of a blog for hours, but when I find a spiraling pubic hair on a piece of soap, I pick it off with a square of toilet paper and throw it out.
No wonder I’m where I am today.
The.
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